Hollow
by kbg234
Summary: 'And again, that hollow laugh rings out as I realize I still don't have any answers.' Mack and Rose deal with the aftermath of Things Not Said.


**I didn't really intend to write this when I opened a word document, but it quickly turned into Mack and Rose fanfic. It's been a while since I posted anything on this site (I'm a little rusty to be** **honest**),** but I love these two and wished there was more of them. **

**Just a Oneshot at the moment. Maybe when my mood shifts I'll write a second chapter or a sequel about after he's human. I honestly don't know, so for now enjoy the mild melodrama haha ;)**

**No I don't own it, but pretty sure everyone knew that already.**

* * *

I laugh, a hollow sound that escapes my mouth without forethought, and it hangs in the air between us. His eyes narrow, almost as if he is trying to calculate just what I find so bloody amusing. To be honest, I don't know the answer myself. I should be crying and clinging to him for dear life, screaming and tearing my hair out, or blubbering incoherently as I try to hold myself together. I should be doing anything but laughing. Arguably, it was a hollow laugh instead of the usual quiet chuckle he had once tried to draw out of me at every chance he got. Still, it felt wrong, and then, just for good measure, I throw in a shaky and bitter smile. At this he no longer looks confused. He is now irritated and beginning to shake with fury. The irritation is nothing new in your relationship, but the playful teasing and banter that usual follows it is long gone. Only the anger remains, and it leaves a chilling feeling in its wake.

"Just what is so funny?" he all but spits out as he stalks towards you, "I'm sorry, but I'm failing to see the humor in this particular moment."

I just continue to smile wanly, not trusting myself to speak with him this close. If I were completely honest, it is not so much the fact that I can't speak as it is that, for one of the few times in my life, I don't know quite what to say. I don't have the answer.

"Rose," he presses, "Please, tell me what is so amusing. I could really use something to laugh about right now. I know I'm supposed to be the one with the well timed, but incredibly bad, jokes, the one to ease the tension, but do you think you could take over for a bit?"

My face goes blank before slowly crumbling when I hear how broken he sounds. I want to make things better for him, I truly do, but I honestly do not know what to say. He needs reassurances that I cannot give in this moment. He needs me to tell him that none of this matters. That he is still himself. I try to see him as my Mack, but he's not. He's bitter and angry and completely closed off. He's become reckless and self-pitying, and a little part of me hates him for it. However, a much larger part of me is frustrated with him for believing that he doesn't matter.

I had managed to hold in my true feelings about his 'predicament' during the last week. He's been put through enough. He does not need to attempt to mend my broken heart in addition to his own. I know he would try to make me feel better if he knew how distressed I was over this. That's who he is. Whether he is that way because it's his nature or programing I no longer know. Regardless, I had wanted to comfort him after the day's events, just to talk for a while, and perhaps to show him that he still matters, especially to me...and then I end up laughing in the middle of his rant about how he is expendable.

"Mack," I finally manage to stutter, "You're being ridiculous right now. You need to stop. You just…you need to stop, alright?"

His eyes narrow again. He's looking at me as if I possess two heads or transformed into someone else like the characters in those graphic novels he loves so much. "Here's an idea, Rose, why don't you just pop me open and reconfigure a couple wires? I'm you'll find a way to make me say whatever it is you want to hear. Hey, and then maybe you can try to figure out why the hell I have all these 'feelings' if I'm only made of metal and bolts. Better yet, why don't you –"

"Shut up!" I scream, effectively cutting off his rant. I know that he doesn't mean what he says. My brain knows that he's just hurting and taking his anger out on me because I'm there. Logically, I know all this, and yet I can't stop the hurt that spreads through me at his harsh words. I breathe slowly, in my nose and out my mouth, and try to will my voice not to shake and my hands to stop trembling. "Mack, I'm not going to ask you to take it back, but, when you come to your senses and feel remorse, I want you to know that I forgive you –"

"But that's just it!" He decides to take his turn and have an outburst of his own. "How would I know that I'm 'feeling' remorse? Honestly, Rose, you're brilliant. You truly are, and you should know that it's a waste of time to forgive inanimate objects. When you left the kettle on too long a couple weeks ago did you blame the stove for making it too hot? No, you made a quip about being glad your fellow professors didn't witness your moment of absentminded stupidity. You blame the person in control of the object. You blame the maker when a gadget doesn't work. So, perhaps instead of wasting your breath talking to me, it would a wiser use of your time to just go and consult with my father. I'm sure he possesses a better incite concerning how I 'tick.' Excuse the pun."

I continue to work on my breathing and now try to stop the tears that have gathered in my eyes from overflowing. Why did he have to be so damn cruel? He has to know what this has done to me. My Mack knew everything with just one look. I used to hate how easy it was for him to know what I was thinking and exactly what I needed, or read my body language like I was just another one of his stupid adventure books. I hold back another dry laugh upon the realization that our reality is more cliché than any number of those books combined. When I finally need him to understand the words I cannot say, he cannot see past himself to look through me.

I steel my nerves and open my mouth to speak, but no words escape my lips. I squeeze my eyes tightly together and will myself to say something. I try for a word, any word would do at this point really, but only a mangled sob echoes throughout the room. His hand lands on my shoulder, and I realize the wretched sound did in fact come from my throat. With what once would have been a comforting gesture, the damn breaks open, and I begin to collapse from the weight of it. His arms catch me and hold me upright as my knees buckle beneath me. As he slowly lowers us both to the ground and cradles me in his lap, I can't help but bitterly remember the last time this happened.

I had just come back from what was promised to be a relaxing and fun picnic. I should have known not to expect a peaceful day off. By the time I had returned to my room in the Hartford Mansion, I realized exactly what I had revealed to Tyzon when we were trapped together. The hurt and feelings of inadequacy from my childhood returned the second I was alone.

I don't remember how long it took before Mack knocked on the door. I foolishly tried to shove him out when he came in, hating that he once again knew I was fragile and detesting that he always was the one who managed to see my vulnerable side. I was in such a state that I didn't even think to turn invisible. I just cried and hit his chest while he just looked at me sadly and let me abuse him. When my legs finally gave out, he caught me and brought us both to the floor slowly. I also don't remember how long I spent crying into this neck while he held me tightly in his lap.

Despite the hazy memories, I remember the details of what happened next so clearly. When my sobs had calmed slightly, he drew my face back to look at me properly before moving closer yet again. I remember how amazing his warm breath felt on my face. I remember the sweet words he whispered as his lips ghosted over mine. I can still hear him calling me beautiful, witty, strong, brilliant, and caring before finally reaching words such as intoxicating and irresistible. That kiss is a moment that is seared into my memory. He was slow and gentle and sweet, and I remember shaking under his light touches. He left me wide-eyed and breathless and desperate for something more. Instead, he pulled back, picked me up and tucked me in before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. I not so much heard as felt him whisper 'sweet dreams, Rosie' when his lips pulled away. I shivered as he withdrew from my body, whether from loss of contact, the new term of endearment, or the honest look on his face I do not know.

I was so scared to face him at breakfast that next morning, but he saw through me yet again. He merely gave me that look, the one with the crooked smile I know he saves only for me, before continuing helping Spencer dish out the scrambled eggs. That look almost gave me the courage to confront him about what that kiss meant. I opened my mouth, ready to ask to speak with him in private for a moment, and then another monster had to attack downtown San Angeles.

He never mentioned or even hinted at that night again. It was as if he knew I was still trying to analyze this thing between the two of us. He knew that my inner-scientist needed to weigh pros and cons and look at it from every possible angle. He knew that part of me that was still broken was scared about everything I was feeling and about how attached we'd become to each other. He knew that if he waited patiently I'd eventually come to him, and I would have, if only I'd had a little more time.

Mack brings me back to the present as he begins to rub my back and arms with soothing slow movements. I hear him mutter apologies as he tries to halt my tears. "I'm so sorry. Please, don't cry, Rosie. I'm sorry for making you cry. Please, don't cry over me." His words only make me cry harder. He seems to realize this fact and lets out a shaky breath as he places my head beneath his chin and holds me tighter in his arms.

When my sobs slowly turn to small hiccups I can't bring myself to look at him. Instead, I continue to grasp his shirt as if it is a lifeline and burrow further into his chest. I hate feeling so weak and needy. I really hate that I'm this vulnerable in front of him, but I can't help it. Trying to be strong has got me nowhere during this crazy mess.

"Rosie?"

"Yes, Mack?" My voice sounds rough to your ears, and I squeeze my eyes shut waiting for his words. A sinking feeling begins to build in me that says I will be crying again after he says his piece.

"I just...I wanted...I mean...well…"

"Please just say it," I all but beg, finally letting my depth of my desperation to become apparent. "It's not as if we don't already know it, but please say it anyway. I need to hear you say it just once so I can figure out what I'm supposed to do now. "

"I really thought I loved you," he finally whispers into my hair. With his words hanging in the air, we both shatter together. I latch onto him, and when he yet again holds on even tighter, more tears begin to fall just as I knew they would.

And again, that hollow laugh rings out as I realize I still don't have any answers.


End file.
